


In the quiet

by Beleriandings



Category: Old Kingdom - Garth Nix
Genre: Abhorsen's house, Gen, Mogget cares more than he will ever admit, Mogget is more like a Real Cat than he'll ever admit, both figurative and literal fluff, post-Kerrigor, sad research montage
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-11-01
Updated: 2018-11-01
Packaged: 2019-08-14 10:36:30
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,129
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16490954
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Beleriandings/pseuds/Beleriandings
Summary: Things don't get easier, after you save the world; soon after the defeat of Kerrigor, Touchstone has had to go to Belisaere to restore the city, while Sabriel is left to try to fill in the gaps in her knowledge at Abhorsen's house alone.Or, not quite alone.(Prompt from a platonic touch meme on tumblr, "gentle headlock", for Sabriel and Mogget.)





	In the quiet

Even with the waterfall roaring outside, the library at Abhorsen’s house was one of the quietest places that Sabriel had ever spent a significant amount of time. The whole place was wreathed in Charter marks of hush and peace; a standard enchantment for libraries, she knew, and usually she appreciated such things when she was trying to read.

It did, however, get rather lonely here when it was just her spending hours poring over her ancestors’ ancient collection of books, with only the sendings who went about of silent feet as company. She missed her father: with the grief still fresh, it was odd how acutely everything here reminded her of him even though she could barely remember actually being in this place with him when she was a child.

She missed Touchstone too; that was the heart of it, Sabriel thought. Somehow, she had not realised quiet how much time they would have to spend apart, after saving the Old Kingdom. Well, perhaps she should have. Touchstone was in Belisaere, helping with the restoration, and she knew that before she could join him she must mend some more Charter stones and force back at least some of the tide of Dead that had been allowed to roam free for so long.

And that, apparently, involved a lot of fighting punctuated by a lot of research, and unfortunately little chance to see the man she had so recently realised she loved with all her heart. Yet, Sabriel was painfully aware, she still lacked large pieces of the knowledge she needed, to be able to take up her father’s position and defend the kingdom that she and Touchstone were trying to build back up together. 

She sighed, running her hand through her hair as she closed a large and sinister-looking tome, clicking its tarnished pewter clasp shut and pushing it across the desk. It was a treatise on the rarer and more ancient sort of Free Magic elementals, yet somehow managed to make that subject as dull and dry as the tables of standard trigonometric identities she had consulted back in school mathematics class.

She stood up and contemplated the shelves, wondering vaguely whether she should prioritise reading about Dead creatures over Free Magic ones; the kingdom crawled with both, it seemed, but the Dead were – perhaps – more of an immediate issue. Or perhaps not; news didn’t travel easily, and Sabriel barely knew the lands in the west at all, short of flying over them in her paperwing. For all she knew the Dead could be confined to the east of the kingdom, though she had a feeling that would be too much of a stroke of luck to hope for.

A good messenger service, and a flight of message hawks, she thought. She must set one up, once Touchstone had gathered a council in Belisaere and they could really work on the infrastructure. They should reach out to the Clayr, too; from what little Sabriel had seen of them, they would make vital allies.

She was half thinking this, and half thinking about whether she might trouble the Sendings for a pot of black tea, when she heard a sound, loud in the silence. Soft and soothing, the ringing of a tiny bell. Its sound was familiar – though smaller, and higher than she was used to – and sent an even more familiar wash of tiredness over her. It was enough to make her catch the back of her chair involuntarily as her muscles were compelled for a moment to sit down, to lay her head on the desk and go to sleep.

She shrugged it off a moment later though, as her gaze caught on the source of the sound and her face broke into a smile.

“Mogget!” she said, as the cat skulked along the base of the shelves opposite her. Since she had bound him again, he slept the majority of the time, and the house felt all the more empty for it. “You’re awake!”

“Unfortunately so” said Mogget, belying his words by coming up beside the desk and jumping up onto it, peering down at the books on Free Magic entities she had been reading. He made a tiny scoffing sound, as he cocked his head to read the title. “Laughably innaccurate, that one. And I wouldn’t waste your time on it.”

“No?”

Mogget looked up at her, with that shrewd smile that suited his cat form, and yet was also somehow quite unlike a cat. He picked his way across the table to her, nudging his face against her hand. “Take off my collar and we can have… a practical lesson on such things, if you like.”

She laughed. “Do you really think I’ll fall for that?”

Mogget flicked his tail, arching his spine in a way that looked for all the world like a nonchalant shrug. “Worth a try.” He rubbed his face against her arm where she leant against the desk. “Some of your ancestors were stupid enough that such things worked on them.”

The miniature version of Ranna tinkled again, making Sabriel stifle a yawn, feeling suddenly calmer and more content. Mogget himself lay down on the desk, clearly abandoning his – already fairly halfhearted – attempt at freedom, in favour of baring the fluffiest part of his belly for her to rub.

She shook her head, smiling. Despite her rather alarming practical experience of Mogget in his true form, she sometimes couldn’t help but think of him as a cat, at times like this. And besides, she thought it only fair that she gave back as good as she got. She reached out, giving his fur a quick rub, until he began to purr. Then she pulled her hand away, making Mogget swipe out at her fingers with a retreating claw, making a noise of displeasure when she was too quick for him to scratch.

Mogget whined, rolling over, but before he could do anything else she gathered him up off the desk onto her lap, arms around him like he was the stuffed bear that one of the younger girls in her childhood dormitory had carried everywhere.

Sabriel couldn’t help but laugh, as Mogget yelped at the indignity of having her arms around him, but could not get free. She dropped her head forward, bestowing upon him a quick kiss on the top of his head. That would show him, she thought, as Mogget mewed in protest, but made no move to jump out of her arms.

Later, when the sun had set outside the windows, the Sendings would find Sabriel curled up in the armchair with a book open across her chest. On her lap was Mogget, purring loudly enough to break the pressing silence of the library at long last.


End file.
